


lay all your love on me

by TwentyOnePhan



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, basically just gilfoyle being a softie, not too much jarrich sorry :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwentyOnePhan/pseuds/TwentyOnePhan
Summary: “Why do you even stay with him?”In which, Dinesh realises how everyone else views their relationship vs how Gilfoyle actually acts behind closed doors
Relationships: Dinesh Chugtai/Bertram Gilfoyle, Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	lay all your love on me

**Author's Note:**

> hey!!! this was actually my first dilfoyle fic i started months ago n only finished lately so here u go!!! lots of love to everyone on twt for never letting me run out of content <3

Without a doubt, Dinesh can confidently say that Gilfoyle is the most annoying person he’s ever met.

More annoying than Richard, with his constant neurotic stuttering rants, or Jared, with his stupidly sweet attitude and weird lanky giraffe like gait, appearing silently behind people and scaring the shit out of him, or Erlich, with his god complex and egocentric air to almost everything he does. 

No, Gilfoyle was by far the top of the list, coming out as number 1 for as long as they’ve known each other. If he wasn’t dropping the odd racist comment, he was insulting Dinesh’s work right in front of him, or if that wasn’t providing a satisfactory reaction, would move on to berating his love life or personality. It was seemingly never-ending, as Gilfoyle so poetically put it, “Dinesh’s pain was his paradise.”

Even after they finally got together, Gilfoyle remained Dinesh’s number 1 annoyance, never even considering easing up on him now that they’re dating or whatever. Nope, the satanist carries on just as before, making Dinesh’s life just that little bit harder. In retrospect, Dinesh realises he’d probably feel more uncomfortable if Gilfoyle stopped the tormenting all together - the pair had gotten so comfortable in their daily routine of non-stop bickering that if he were to lose it now he’d lose one of the only constants in his life. 

So they carried on as normal and Gilfoyle remained the most annoying man he’d ever met. 

Their status-quo included a variety of aggravating gestures, each taking wicked delight in riling the other up. One afternoon, as Dinesh stared blankly at the miles of code in front of him, his mind wandered to the foreboding presence in the corner. He could probably do with some entertainment right about now.

Standing up, he stretched his aching back (hunched in a chair all day wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his posture) and decided to make his way to the kitchen. As he ever so casually sauntered past Gilfoyle’s corner (there was no real reason for him to take this route, going left would probably have been quicker) he leaned over and yanked a handful of Gilfoyle’s hair. Nothing hard enough to wound, just enough, however, to incite a reaction. Gilfoyle whipped around, batting Dinesh’s hand away and glaring, icier than his usual, and Dinesh only smirked in response, carrying on. 

They could’ve left it there, brushed it off and carried on with their work like, y’know, two normal mature functioning workers. However, Dinesh nor Gilfoyle were any of those things and soon this had escalated into an all out war. As Gilfoyle walked past Dinesh’s desk, he’d slap him upside the head, or flick his ear, or jar his elbow as he typed, each earning a scowl and huff from Dinesh. Satisfied, he’d meander on but not before Dinesh would mutter vague curses his way. 

By dinner however, they’d cranked up the heat. 

As they stood in the kitchen - Jared and Richard agonising over pizza choices - Gilfoyle would lightly shove or elbow Dinesh, beer sloshing around within the bottle, and in return, Dinesh would slam his side against the taller man’s, taking a small victory in making him stumble slightly.

Jared and Richard paid no mind, wrapped up in the seemingly debilitating choice of pineapple or no pineapple, so when Dinesh “accidentally” poured beer on Gilfoyle’s socks, they never lifted their heads when Gilfoyle leaned up and began emptying his beer over Dinesh’s head. 

“What the fuck! Oh my god, you prick!” Dinesh yelped before trying to dart away, Gilfoyle smirking and letting the beer follow his already soaked hair. Muttering a string of curses, Dinesh hunted for something around him for revenge. Spotting Erlich’s open yogurt carton on the counter, he reached for it, aiming it straight at Gilfoyle’s forehead, before it was wrenched from his hand by a very pissed off looking Erlich. 

After being shouted at for what felt like a lifetime, Erlich stalked away, yoghurt gripped firmly, leaving Dinesh and Gilfoyle standing side by side by the table once more. Dinesh felt a sharp jab of a bony elbow to his ribs and reached up for another fistful of hair. 

Now, not all their altercations were physical, instead, more of a demand from attention from the foreboding corner of the room. Despite his whole “Humans are awful, we should trust no-one” outlook, Gilfoyle required a _lot_ of Dinesh’s attention to keep himself working smoothly. 

This mainly resulted in cheap barbs at Dinesh’s code as he leaned over his shoulder on the way past, tutting in his ear, and glancing to see Dinesh’s reaction, or sometimes, if Gilfoyle was really bored, he’d send stationary pinging over the room towards his desk. Rubber bands, balled up paper, pens and pencils - you name it, Gilfoyle had thrown it. 

He’d even tried to spit once, but luckily it fell flat halfway across the journey, splatting loudly on the floor. Dinesh had whipped around, “Did you just try and spit on me? That’s the most disgusting thing ever, oh my _god_ ” but was met with an unapologetic, satisfied smirk, and rolled his eyes in defeat. 

Yes, Gilfoyle was an annoying prick but after living with the guy for years, Dinesh learned to tune most of it out, happy enough that he felt he’d finally found his equal. 

Despite the constant feuds, they really did get along, trusting each other almost blindly and becoming closer to each other than anyone else in the house. Sure they may have freaked out like insecure babies at Jared’s insinuation but it was true, they really were each other’s best friends. The addition of a relationship on top of that didn’t really change a lot of their dynamic from an onlookers perspective, the pair remaining a dysfunctional, bickering mess, as they’d always been. 

Dinesh was spending a rare afternoon alone with Richard; the two had been driven mad by the neverending stream of work delivered and had decided to flee, making straight for Philz Coffee. 

The afternoon was pleasantly warm, the sky almost perfectly clear and the streets calm and peaceful. It was a much needed break, especially after Gilfoyle had been taking pleasure in berating Dinesh’s work every opportunity he saw that afternoon. They walked in relative silence, both desperately trying to quash the consuming anxiety within their mind, but the company was a much appreciated given. 

The shop was fairly quiet, much to Dinesh’s internal relief, and their drinks were in hand quickly, each taking greedy slurps, the need for caffeine suddenly overwhelming. After practically downing half their drinks, and stopping for deep breathing after, they found a smaller table at the back to rest at and took their seats. 

They were quiet, not wanting to talk about work but struggling to find much else to discuss. 

Everything they did felt tied to Pied Piper, all their friendships and relationships and free time, so when out of sight and mind, Dinesh found there wasn’t that much they could share. 

He looked down at the coffee below him, swirling lazily around the ice cubes, foam sticking to the sides of the cup. In front of him, Richard worried his bottom lip, mind far away, brows furrowed. Feeling Dinesh’s eyes on him, he broke his trance and looked over, giving a watery, nervous smile. 

Jesus, Dinesh felt like he was losing the will to life every second that passed. As he contemplated if he could fit out the bathroom window in an escape attempt, Richard’s tentative voice broke him from his thoughts. 

“Why do you stay with him?”

_What?_

“ _What?_ Who?”

Richard flushed and looked away, a sheepish look painting his face. “Gilfoyle. Why do you, you know, stay with him?”

Dinesh was still entirely lost. _How did this go from a regular, awkward, coffee break to a sudden interrogation of his love life?_ Dinesh cocked his head, peering at Richard, but gained no eye contact in response. 

Sensing his point was lost, Richard continued. “All he ever seems to do is annoy you. I don’t think I’ve seen him be nice to you once, even after you got together. Why are you with him? Are you even happy? Are you being, like, abused, or something, because I’m sure Jared can-“

Dinesh had tuned him out.

_Oh. This was definitely not the conversation he thought he’d be having today._

Richard’s question had taken him aback, practically amusing him, because of course, poor Richard and the ever doting Jared didn’t know any better, can only interpret what they get at face value. 

Because, what the rest of the Pied Piper team do not know, is that Gilfoyle might also be the biggest softie he’s ever known. (Not that he’s had a grand variety to compare him to but still.) 

Yes, he constantly bullied him during the day, driving him mad, but after hours, when it was just the two of them, he was surprisingly sweet (it had shocked Dinesh at first too) 

Once his icy cold facade had finally thawed away when they were alone (it had taken a while) Dinesh suddenly couldn’t take his usual aggressions seriously any more, nothing hit as hard as it used to, because, well, it’s hard to take a snarling tiger seriously if it comes to you for pets every night like a regular house cat. 

The first time Gilfoyle truly caught Dinesh by surprise was after a particularly long, laborious day, with Dinesh ranting to Gilfoyle in the kitchen. It was quiet, almost hitting 12am, and they still had a couple hours of work to go, so Gilfoyle had made them coffee. They leaned against the counter, Gilfoyle lazily sipping from his “Drink Coffee Hail Satan Mug” (sometimes Dinesh wondered if he loved that mug more than him... probably) while Dinesh gestured wildly, cursing out Richard and his usual bullshit. 

Gilfoyle just stood there, silent but listening, an unreadable expression on his face but Dinesh dared to think it looked… almost fond? After another wave of frustrated rambling, Dinesh finally managed to wear himself out, taking a sip of his coffee that he’d abandoned on the counter (well, more like had to be physically taken out of his erratically gesturing hands in fear that he’d spill scalding hot coffee on himself) 

Dinesh sighed heavily into his mug and glanced up at his boyfriend (? That term in regard to _Gilfoyle_ always took him back a bit) who was looking down at him with the same expression, head slightly cocked, with a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. Dinesh instantly grew insecure and peered at him, snapping, “What. What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Gilfoyle’s smile grew slightly, self satisfied, which only pissed Dinesh off more. “What!? Fuck you, what are you smiling at?”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” At Dinesh’s affronted reaction, the Canadian only smiled more, taking pleasure in flustering him. 

Dinesh spluttered, “Fuck you! You prick!”

“What? It’s true!”

“You’re an asshole, you know that? Seriously.”

Gilfoyle put his mug down and stepped towards Dinesh, putting his hands on his waist and staring down at him with a tender, happy expression that Dinesh had practically never seen before. Dinesh smiled, rolling his eyes, and pulled Gilfoyle closer, resting his head on his chest. 

“Seriously, I mean it. You’re a dick Gilfoyle.”

The taller only chuckled slightly, holding Dinesh tight and rested his chin on his head. 

It was moments like these that the rest of the house never saw, would probably never believe if Dinesh told them about it. 

It was like Gilfoyle had this icy, intimidating mask that he wore constantly but when it finally slipped away around Dinesh, he realised that most of his “I hate everyone, can’t trust anyone, emotions aren’t real” bullshit was just an act of self defence, that Gilfoyle did indeed experience tender moments like the rest of them; though they were more coveted and private than Jared’s for example, who exclaimed love and endearment for almost everyone and everything at all hours.

Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t all love and smiles immediately, it took them at least, like, 2 months before they held hands or whatever, relationship previously consisting of mainly sex and making out, with the odd sweet word thrown in. No, it had taken a while for Gilfoyle’s barriers to fall, to trust Dinesh enough to let himself relax and be himself for a while, not his usual front. 

One of the first times Gilfoyle truly let himself be vulnerable around Dinesh happened late one night as they were lying on Gilfoyle’s bed together. 

The room was almost pitch black, save for the flashing clock on the bedside table and the glare of the streetlights streaming in, basking the floor in an orange haze . 

They were lying, naked apart from boxers, in silence, deep breathing the only noise in the room. It wasn’t awkward - hell they’d just sucked each others’ dicks, nothing could really make it awkward - but it wasn’t exactly peaceful either. There was a tenseness radiating from the man beside him, he was stiff and unmoving, breathing even but controlled. He obviously had something on his mind but Dinesh knew better than to push it, that would only make him retreat further into himself, so instead he just lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

Dinesh felt himself drifting off when Gilfoyle’s voice in the darkness woke him up again, soft but striking in the silence. 

“You know, uh, when we… you know.”

Dinesh raised himself to lean on his elbow, peering down at Gilfoyle, who was adamantly avoiding any eye contact like his life depended on it.

“Can’t say that I do Gilfoyle, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Gilfoyle furrowed his eyebrows and huffed, frustrated. “You know when we,” his words were broken by a nervous cough, “I’m always, like, behind you?” He made an awkward, lying down motion with his hands, so at least this wasn’t about sex. 

“Yessss?” Dinesh drawled, dragging out Gilfoyle’s discomfort as long as he could. He had an inkling what the other man was trying, and failing miserably, to say. 

“Whatever. Nevermind. I’m going to sleep.” And with that, he rolled onto his side, back facing Dinesh, and sighed. 

Well, that was weird. Gilfoyle was so fucking weird sometimes. The man was an enigma, bold and outspoken when it came to almost everything - his opinion on other people (irregarding their immediate presence), the work Richard gave him, what shirt Dinesh happened to have thrown on that day - the man was never shy about letting others know exactly what he was thinking. Everything except when it came to letting others know what he actually wanted or needed, then it became a guessing game to decipher whatever broken and vague request he managed to force out. 

Dinesh was pretty sure he knew exactly what Gilfoyle was trying to insinuate, despite his awkward muttering. He gave him about a minute of sulking before he shuffled across the bed towards him. 

He lay there, his body aligned with the other man’s, just barely touching. He knew Gilfoyle wasn’t asleep because   
a) it took him an absurdly long time to fall asleep, like, it was a wonder he ever got any rest at all   
b) he could see the skin of his neck flush red where Dinesh’s breath ghosted it, warm and intimate.

After waiting for Gilfoyle to make a move away from Dinesh, which he did not, Dinesh tentatively laced an arm around his waist, not gripping him but just firm enough to hold him. He felt the skin underneath where his arm lay heat up, if there were more light in the room he was certain he’d see the satanist’s skin flushing bright red. Gilfoyle tensed but then, thank god, relaxed under Dinesh’s arm, shuffling back ever so slightly to lean into him, inviting him to press back. 

“Like this?” whispered Dinesh and Gilfoyle hummed, content, in response. 

Dinesh smiled, content that he was right in knowing what Gilfoyle actually wanted, and pressed his lips to the back of Gilfoyle’s neck, a featherlight kiss but grounding for the both of them. After a little more adjusting, they settled, Dinesh’s arm wrapped around Gilfoyle’s waist and legs entangled under the sheets. 

The room was silent, Dinesh trying to bring together a mental to-do list for the following day, when soft snoring filled his ears. With awestruck shock, Dinesh raised his head ever so slightly (he was basically immobile, his limbs being held in a vice grip) and, lo and behold, Dinesh witnessed it for the very first time; Gilfoyle had fallen asleep first - totally, 100%, dead to the world, KO. 

_Holy Shit!_ , he thought so loudly it was a wonder it didn’t wake the other man up, _Holy Shit!_ This was the first time in the history of _ever_ Gilfoyle had fallen asleep first. 

Dinesh re-evaluated the position they were in and started connecting the dots in his mind. _Ohhhhhhhhh. Pffft, of course he was too proud to admit he wanted to be the little spoon._

From that night on, it became an unspoken agreement between them that that position was their go-to, Gilfoyle wordlessly relaxing himself into Dinesh’s arms, with Dinesh more than willing to hold the other as they lay together, whether it be watching one of Gilfoyle’s shitty movies or drifting to sleep. 

Dinesh also found out soon after that Gilfoyle likes people playing with his hair. Like, _really_ likes it. The first time it became apparent to him was late one night, Gilfoyle’s room, with the pair lounging on his bed, watching a truly terrible horror movie from his laptop. 

Gilfoyle had draped himself over Dinesh, arm wrapped around his waist and ear resting over his heartbeat. It was comfortable and quiet; Dinesh wasn’t really paying any attention to the movie, it truly was shit, and instead entertained himself by lazily tracing random shapes (dicks) and words (curses) on Gilfoyle’s exposed back. 

They had stayed that way for a long while, secure in the knowledge that everyone else was asleep, no risk of being disturbed, hence Gilfoyle using Dinesh as a body pillow. 

As a screeching girl on screen was being slashed to pieces in a painfully overdramatic fashion, Dinesh absentmindedly brought his hand up to begin running it through Gilfoyle’s brown waves, already slightly mussed from laying down. 

Idly, he raked his fingers through the other man’s hair, getting rid of knots and letting his fingernails drag against his scalp. He was hardly aware he was even doing it until Gilfoyle hummed quietly, the vibration echoing through his chest, as he practically melted into him. 

_Huh_ , Dinesh remarked as he felt Gilfoyle _everrrrr_ so slightly push his head back into Dinesh’s hand, almost as if he was urging him to carry on. He wondered if Gilfoyle even knew he was doing this shit, it was so unlike him, it was kinda eerie. 

It was like Dinesh had flipped a switch, one somehow activated through playing with his hair and now he was all… soft and gooey beneath him. It was unnerving but also, kinda amusing. 

Dinesh carried on, gently twirling strands around his fingers, and studied Gilfoyle closely. Sure enough, the more he continued, the more relaxed and almost sedated Gilfoyle became; Dinesh stifled a smile when he stretched his arm out, uncanny to that of a sleepy cat getting behind it’s ears scratched. _God this was so fucking weird_ , he thought. If he told his past self that he’d ever get so intimate and domestic with _Gilfoyle_ of all people, he'd probably laugh very loudly in his face; yet, here they both were and somehow Dinesh wouldn’t trade it for the world, not for any amount of money. So fucking weird. 

That was one thing Dinesh had learned about Gilfoyle that he never thought was even in the realm of possibility - the man secretly loved physical affection, he just struggled to ask for it, didn’t know how. 

Anything Dinesh found out he liked - being the little spoon, getting his hair played with, basically as much physical contact and attention as possible - was by complete accident. 

He really was just like a giant cat in Dinesh’s eyes - a real major asshole, like knock-your-shit-off-tables-for-no-good-reason asshole, you had to earn any sort of respect from him and he required a lot of attention once he got close to you. Maybe that’s why he distanced himself from others so greatly - he got too attached, too dependent, and the threat of that source being taken away scared him more than being alone ever would… Dinesh tried not to think about this. 

Instead, he focussed on all the other randomly sweet shit about Gilfoyle that popped into his mind that no one would dare to suspect; an example being that, whenever they were at a party or a function, Gilfoyle always took it upon himself to make sure Dinesh a) didn't drink too much and make an idiot of himself and b) got back to their room safely and took care of him until he fell asleep. 

It was so obvious, Dinesh honestly didn’t know how any other member of the team hadn’t picked up on it; every time Dinesh started demanding to do karaoke or began ordering drinks faster than he could actually drink them, Gilfoyle always dragged him away from the crowds, sacrificing his whole night to tend to a very intoxicated boyfriend of his. 

Sometimes, if Dinesh whined loud enough or feigned a stumble or was genuinely too drunk to walk, Gilfoyle would sigh and pick Dinesh up and carry him the rest of the way to the hotel room bridal style. This never failed to make Dinesh laugh gleefully, loud shouts about how “my boyfriends so strong! Look! He’s carrying me! Hah!” echoing down the halls as Gilfoyle blushed bright red. 

When they finally get to their room. Gilfoyle would gently lower Dinesh to the bed while he got some water to force down him and some antibiotics for the morning. 

Dinesh, still radiating a happy buzz, would watch as Gilfoyle gets into his pajamas and brushes his teeth, a staring competition often resulting between the two, as Gilfoyle motions for Dinesh to get changed and go to sleep as Dinesh either performed some more karaoke or attempted to drunk text Monica. 

Finally, Dinesh would wrestle himself out of whatever formal shit he’d been put in and collapse on the bed, practically passing out immediately (he got tired very, very quickly when drunk) As his head swam, Gilfoyle would gently lower himself beside Dinesh, rolling him over until they were spooning, much to a sleepy Dinesh’s annoyance (“So you don’t choke on your own vomit and die, asshole. You wanna die, feel free, not my problem”) and they’d fall asleep on the slightly stiff hotel mattress, warm and entangled within one another. 

Every outing was the same and it wasn’t until Dinesh was considerably sobered up the next day that he would realise the gravity of the gesture - Gilfoyle, who could’ve been socialising with important Tech names and furthering his options once Pied Piper was over, sacrificed any of that to make sure Dinesh was okay, that he got to bed safely and didn’t die stupidly during the night. Sure the bar was practically on the floor but it still meant something to Dinesh, it was thoughtful and selfless, something Gilfoyle was not, at least most of the time. 

It was the little things that seemed insignificant to others that meant a lot to Dinesh. 

Neither was terribly good at grand romantic gestures, or public displays of affection, or even articulating their feelings most of the time, so in the dysfunctional trainwreck they somehow called a relationship, actions spoke louder and came easier than words, with small gestures carrying the weight of everything they couldn’t say, at least not yet. 

It was eye opening really, because once he picked up on it, actually realised what Gilfoyle was trying to convey through his actions, Dinesh realised how far back the affectionate paper trail (more like coffee cup trail) seemed to go and he became sheepish at how oblivious he’d been for so long. 

With Gilfoyle’s discomfort at verbal affection around the others, he chose to remind Dinesh of his presence via small tokens throughout the day. 

Mornings it usually manifested in a steaming cup of coffee waiting on his desk, lunchtime it was an invitation to get something to eat together, to be able to spend some time without being crowded by the other occupants of the hostel (sometimes he’d even pay for Dinesh’s order, which was very telling of a good day) and by evening it was more coffee or energy drinks as they worked into the early morning or an invitation to pack up early, head subtly jerking towards his bedroom and magnified eyes giving him a multitude of signals. 

By what he lacked in verbal skills, he more than made up for in gestures and everytime Dinesh took a sip of his perfectly made brew in the morning, he felt his chest grow warm, because he knew this meant something, that he was special to Gilfoyle and that made his stupid cheeks flush and stomach fill with butterflies. 

In return, Dinesh would make sure to thank Gilfoyle by going out of his way to pass by his desk and muss up his hair as he walked past (the resulting glare meant nothing, he knew he loved it) or squeeze his shoulder, as a silent gratitude for the gesture, keeping both Gilfoyle’s icy exterior and secret need for affection in tact. 

It was shit like that, the things no one would ever expect of him, that Dinesh revelled in knowing, because he knew it meant Gilfoyle trusted him, more so than anyone else. 

Being one of the sole owners of the inside knowledge of Gilfoyle made Dinesh preen when he thought about it; whenever he looked at the satanist tormenting Richard, he inwardly inwardly smirked in satisfaction, knowing that his malicious habits was only one side of him, fiercely masking the other side that only Dinesh got to see. 

It made him feel special but moreover, it made him feel loved, a fact to which he’d never admit out loud, but one that kept him going when the demon in question was being extra insufferable that day or they were at odds due to another fight. 

Despite it being left majorly unsaid throughout their relationship, Dinesh knew Gilfoyle loved him. 

He knew by the way Gilfoyle took care of him, his selflessness and the way he doted after Dinesh when he needed him, no matter how begrudgingly; he knew by the gestures he went out of his way to perform, to show that he thought of Dinesh, wanted to make him feel better if only for a second, or however long the morning cup of coffee lasted; he knew by the way he let himself be vulnerable around him - such an effort from Gilfoyle was not wasted on Dinesh’s part and what seemed insignificant to others (with Jared and Richard baring their souls and expressing their emotions to each other left, right and centre) Dinesh knew how monumental they were to his boyfriend and he never took them for granted, simply relished in the feeling of Gilfoyle relaxing under his warmth and touch. 

The clearing of a throat ripped Dinesh from his thoughts. 

Bringing his eyes up to meet Richard’s, he was met with bright blues who eyed him cautiously, obviously prepared to dial Jared to call the cops or something. He smiled to himself and shook his head. “No, no no no, Jesus Richard, calm down. I’m not like, in grave danger or something, no need to call Jared.”

Richard visibly relaxed at Dinesh’s words for a second, but no sooner was he back to anxiously peering at Dinesh. ( _Jesus, did this guy ever experience a positive emotion for more than one goddamn second?_ )

Dinesh barrelled on, before Richard could interrupt with more god awful questions. “Look, trust me when I tell you we’re absolutely fine, okay? It’s just— our relationship is just different to you and Jared’s or whatever,” Richard flushed bright red at that, face ducking down towards his cup. “Gilfoyle can be an asshole, sure, but… he’s, y’know… trying” Dinesh trailed off, not sounding quite as confident as he’d like. 

Richard glanced up at him through long, fluttering eyelashes, visibly calmer, eyebrows knitted together in his usual anxiety riddled fashion, no longer due to concerns of his friends’ relationship and safety.

“Oh, okay. That’s, uh, that’s good. I’m glad. Me and Jared were kinda worried, y’know? But as long as you’re sure, then we’re happy.”

As Dinesh made to reply, his phone screen illuminated from where it sat face up on the table, flashing a text from the very problem they’d been confronting. 

_Gilfoyle_

_When will you be back?_  
Got something to show you   
Nothing work related, I promise 

Dinesh felt his heart clench at the string of texts and those damn butterflies migrated to the pit of his stomach again. As he glanced down, rereading the messages, he smiled and responded quietly, though it seemed more to himself than to the slightly baffled Richard in front of him

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure” 

_Dinesh_

_Just coming home now :) <3_

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading!! im not entirely proud of this but i thought i’d publish it anyway so thanks for getting this far lol <3
> 
> come shout abt them w me on twt!!  
> @cateyesgilfoyle


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